


Wow That Guy Has Nice Hips

by Psith



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dancestors - Freeform, Frottage, Human Names, Humanstuck, M/M, Modeling AU, POV Third Person Limited, Photography, Slow Build to the actual relationship, Sometimes Second Person, clothes-on sex, ooc, they may be out of character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psith/pseuds/Psith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, I'm sure you've read those stories where the protagonist is really sweet yet awesomely feisty. Those stories where the hero teams up with a vagabond stranger and the two battle a foe, whether it be an evil wizard or the school finals or even each other, but they overcome it somehow and it's  filled with love and fluff and all that goodie-bag stuff. Happily ever after.</p><p>This is not one of those stories.</p><p>Well, at least not <i>totally</i> one of those stories.</p><p>[on <b>hiatus</b> while i get my life togeteher]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Are Those Porn Mags?"

**Author's Note:**

> From this post: http://franciium.tumblr.com/post/75753065767/humanstuck-au-rp-idea-wow-the-guy-has-nice-hips  
> I did use some human names, I'm sure you can figure out who's who.  
> May sometimes be out of character since I am not the creator and cannot always fully understand character ad what they might do in a certain situation.
> 
> I only humanize the names because, really, who honestly has a kid named 'Karkat' or 'Terezi'. I'm just trying to make it a bit more realistic.  
> I guess I just feel uncomfortable about writing a Humanstuck fanfiction without giving them realistic human names.  
> But if it truly bothers you, I'm gonna let you know that their troll names will be used later on. As nicknames.
> 
> So, enjoy
> 
> ~Sarah  
> *** however if there are enough complaints, I'll change their names to their usual troll names

Now, I'm sure you've read those stories where the protagonist is really sweet yet awesomely feisty. Those stories where the hero teams up with a vagabond stranger and the two battle a foe, whether it be an evil wizard or the school finals or even each other, but they overcome it somehow and it's filled with love and fluff and all that goodie-bag stuff. Happily ever after.

This is not one of those stories.

Well, at least not _totally_ one of those stories.

Our story starts with a young man, ogling at his favourite swimsuit model, just like any other teenager.

But our protagonist is not a teenager. He is more matured than that, in his mid-twenties (totally more mature) with his own apartment and job. His closet is set with trendy clothes and his fridge is full. The living area lacks a television at the moment, but he's hoping to change that soon.

He has a roommate – his own younger brother, who, for some reason, thought it'd be a grand idea to stop by and live with him once their parents metaphorically kicked him out of the house once he'd turned the mature age of eighteen.

He is still trying to find a way out of these arrangements.

A camera sits on his desk, full of pictures of people doing odd things, or just odd people. This is his job after all, he'll see some odd things.

But he is not at home right now, so truly it is a wonder why we went to the trouble to describe his home.

He is outside at a magazine stand, contemplating on whether or not he should actually buy the magazine with his favourite model on it. His brown eyes scan the column next to where his favoured magazine sits. He picks up one on photography and another with a nice nature picture cover, hopefully both will give him inspiration for his own models and scenes.

He slips the one he originally wanted off the rack with a casual whistle and approaches the man at the stand's small counter to purchase.

 _For study,_ he insists to himself as the man sums his total. _I need new poses...this will help. Yes. Not for viewing pleasure and god I can't believe I actually thought 'viewing pleasure'._ He scowls at the sidewalk, mentally kicking himself. _Aw, who am I kidding? It is for viewing pleasure._

He adjusts his collar and clears his throat as he makes his way to his apartment complex. He buzzes his doorbell and pushes the intercom. “Hey, Karry, let me in, I forgot my key.”

The voice that comes out is fuzzy and sort of hurt his ears. “What's the password?”

The magazines thud against the front door as he slumps forward, groaning quietly. “Oh come on, I would have thought we'd be passed this by now? Are you really that immature to where you, even at the supposed mature age, would act like a child and create a password that I would never even know since we've never discussed this. Honestly, how do you expect me to know this password? I was out for, what, five, ten minutes? And still you manage to do something so immaturely ridiculous in such a short amount of time. It is really no wonder why Mom and Dad made you leave right away when you make decisions like this.” He could've gone on, but he stopped himself. He's been told he talks too much.

It takes a moment for a reply to come. “I cannot believe I had to sit here and listen to that whole damn thing. I couldn't even stop you. Fine, I'll let you come up, just don't say anything more. Sheesh!”

With a satisfied grin he hears a buzzing meaning the door was now unlocked. He climbs two flights of stairs and knocks on the door which behind held the rooms that belonged to him.

A younger, slightly shorter man answers. By 'answers' we mean he opens the door without looking and leaves it open wide.

The photographer walks in and closes the door calmly, goes to the fridge to pull out a water bottle and walks into his home, only to be stopped by a blonde in a red shirt and aviator sunglasses.

“Karry, you could have told me Dave was coming over. Please give me a heads up next time,” he calls into the other room where his brother now sits on the couch, now converted to a pull-out bed.

“'Sup, Kenneth,” the blonde greets. He nods towards the plastic bag of his magazines. “New porn mags?”

“I really do wish you'd call me Kenny,” he says. “And, no, there is no pornographic photos in any of these.”

Dave looks into the bag more. “That babe on top looks pretty pornographic.” Before Kenny can stop him, he pulls it out. “Oh, it's a _dude._ Well, I knew you were into weird shit, Kenneth, but I never took you as a gay man.”

“It doesn't matter what's on the cover, it's for work,” Kenny says as he snatches the magazine back, blushing just the tiniest bit. Of course he wasn't thinking about anything lewd. Purely for work. _Oh come on,_ he thinks, _you've already admitted this on the way here, it is_ definitely _not for work._ Regardless, he must deny whatever the smirking younger man was saying with every fiber in his being.

“And so what if I was a gay man?” Kenny continues. “Would that make my personality any different? It wouldn't affect how well I did my job. I'm not admitting to anything, but just because I have a magazine with brilliant photography and stunning models..that makes me gay? That is as outrageous as it is silly, which the two are not really all that different. And –”

“Dude, relax. I was just joking around. It doesn't matter if you're gay or not. This is for 'work', right?” Dave does the air quote thing with his fingers around the word 'work' and although Kenny couldn't see it, he could almost swear he saw Dave wink and wiggle his eyebrows, which only made his blush deepen.

He clears his throat before he speaks again. “Right, well, I'll be going to my room then. You two just....please don't break anything.”

Karry begins to shout something unpleasant in his direction but his voice is muffled as Kenny closes the door, leaning against and thudding his head on it. How could Dave read him so _easily?_ Was he really that obvious?

Whatever the case, he straightens himself up and places the magazine next to his bed and sits down on the piece of furniture.

He takes his shoes off and reclines back on the bed, stretching for a moment before bringing his laptop over and starting it up.

He uses the wifi of the lady who lives next to them since it doesn't have a password and he's pretty sure she doesn't even use it. He's thinking she has it just to have it.

The internet browser starts up and his immediate destination is his photography blog. It's not his professional photos, but still nice stuff he's found while taking walks, like people wearing funny outfits or a beautiful flower.

Nothing new other than a few people liking a few of the pictures. He closes that tab and opens a new one, searching for the model on the cover of the magazine. For a moment he thinks back to what Dave said – about it being a pornography magazine and he blushes a little at that. He's still trying to deny himself on that, even after he'd admit defeat.

The model was a fairly famous one who was mostly a model for swimsuits, but did do other things like regular suits and just simple things like mens' polo shirts (Kenny heard that he's done nude modeling, but he's never been brave enough to search it; just the thought of it makes him flush an unflattering shade of red, he can't even see it when it's there but he _knows_ ).

He had a darker complexion, not exactly tan but not as ghostly pale as Karry. He had chiseled cheekbones and holes in his lip, nose, and eyebrow which suggested he had piercings. His eyes were a deep blue-purple that sparkled even through a magazine photo. His hair was always slicked back, the black waves rolling over each other like the water he was usually paired with. His muscular arms and toned chest led down to a sculpted stomach which led lower to make a V which left a little too much to Kenny's imagination, much to his annoyance. And _wow_ this guy had nice hips. They jutted out in just the right amount of attractiveness where they're not not seen nor where it made him look disproportionate.

But Kenny's favourite part was the two little white scars just above his right eyebrow, giving him an even more ruggish yet handsome face -- giving it more character, truly making him his own.

His name was Connor Ampora, he learned when he first discovered him. Since then, he's followed close to everything relating to him; newsfeed, picture blogs – anything that would give him more. That sounds kind of greedy and weird, so he doesn't really think about that too much, he just rolls with it.

And this guy actually has helped out with his work. He's been basing a lot of his scenes and poses and stuff (of course making minor changes to make it his own since people would probably recognize the same thing). This has made him popular and had many people recommending him and coming back.

Which of course is good. It makes him money. Not enough money to buy a television or to kick his brother out, but enough to buy groceries and clothes. The essentials.

Kenny saves a few of the newer photos to his computer and considers taking himself by his right hand, but pushes the thought away. _None of that._ Dave was messing with his head. No more.

He closes his laptop and sets it on the floor and sets the alarm on his phone to wake him up in an hour and crawls under the blankets and shuts his eyes, forcing himself to not think of dreamy boys on the web and not-so-dreamy boys in the room next to his.

=+=

The ever annoying shrill of his phone ringing startles him awake.

He almost hits his head on the headboard before sitting up with a quiet moan and answers the phone with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Hey, Vantas,” says the high voice of his best friend and agent. “How would you like to work with this guy named Connor Ampora?”


	2. Lower Your Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise surprise, a dick's inside!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooly fuck I'm sorry this took so long. I procrastinate so much.  
> Actually, honestly I forgot about this for like a month and when I was getting ready to write something else I saw this and I nearly choked because GODDAMMIT I NEED TO FINISH THIS FUCK FUCK FUCK
> 
> So, yea, sorry about makin ya wait so goddamned long.
> 
> Also -- I have no idea how to write Cronus. I can't write flirty things either. Send help please ;_;  
> Karkat's kinda hard to write too, whoops  
> And another thing -- I have no idea how photo shoots work. I don't know anything about this so bear with me please u.u;;
> 
> Also!: FORESHADOWING ALERT FORESHADOWING FORSHADOW  
> Try and figure out what it is in form of comment maybe? (It's actually kinda obvious haha)

“Wait, who?” Kenny says, much more awake. “Are...are you serious? You aren't just pulling my leg, here? I will actually be able to work with him? Rea –“

“I take it you know who he is.”

“Portia, I – how did you – ?”

“Well, apparently his guy saw your stuff so he called me and we talked and now you get to take pictures of the guy,” says Portia, with her elegant way with words. “We'll all meet up this weekend to talk and whatever. And Kenny...”

“Huh, what?”

“Be prepared to take a lot of pictures, they're paying us an ass-load of money for this. So don't screw it up.”

He breathes out a winded laugh. “I won't.”

“I was told he could be...., well, abrasive and inappropriate with the photographers. If he gives you trouble hit him.”

“I'm not going to hit him.”

“Then I'll hit him.” Kenny rolls his eyes at that. 

The woman on the other line made a noise signaling that she was done talking and hung up, leaving Kenny unable to fall back asleep, too awake from the idea that he'll get to meet him and talk to him and take pictures of _him._

He covers his slightly blushing face and bites his pillow, thoroughly more excited for the weekend than he was an hour ago.

=+=

When Kenny actually leaves his room, he finds that Dave has gone and a cute girl with light brown hair and red sunglasses has taken his place.

Kenny nearly stops in surprise, since he's not too used to girls being over (it's not like he ever brings any home), so he can only assume that Karry has brought her here.

“Oh, hey Kenny. C'mere, I wanna introduce you to someone,” his brother calls from the futon. He reaches the futon and the girl stretches out a red-clawed hand, rainbow-coloured gel bracelets dangling from her arm and flashes a smile (Kenny could have sworn she sharpened them with how sharp they were, not just her canines, all of her teeth). “Kenny, this is Theresa. She's my girlfriend.”

Thee glossy lips lift at the corners high as she opens her mouth for a friendly, “Hi!”, in a sort of raspy voice.

Kenny takes her hand and returns the hello, looking agitatedly at his brother. “Yes, well, Karry, may I speak to you for a moment? Alone, maybe?”

Karry snorts. “No, you can say whatever – ow! Hey! What the fu–“ He's interrupted as he's pulled by his brother into the kitchenette.

“That's twice today, Karry. You can't keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Kenny rolls his head back as if the answer should be obvious, which it is. “This,” he gestures to the girl bouncing in place on the couch, humming as her curls bounce with her. “Bringing people over unannounced. First Dave, now this new girl? What happened to that other girl? The one who liked cats? I liked her. She was cute and she could stand a conversation. Granted, both these girls' fashion senses are a bit...umm...eccentric?..but still. Whatever happened to her? That wasn't very long ago either, only, what, four weeks? A month? Karry, that's not very gentlemanly nor courteous to either girl. One might say that you are using these poor girls just to show that you can have one. Although, now that I think more about it, it could just be that you were not feeling much of anything for that other girl? Of course, that is just like me, isn't it? Jumping to strangled conclusions like that, assuming that just because my little brother has had more than one girlfriend within two months that he's become somewhat of a, excuse me, 'man-whore.' Of course, you do know what they say about people assuming, hmm? But then there are those who would think that I'm just speaking out because of jealousy, which is very illogical since I have no real interest in anyone romantically nor sexually.

“But getting back on the point of your girlfriends, past and present, perhaps you've just been using these girls sexually? Of course, with that last girl, she was very more interested in you romantically more than anything else, at least from what I observed. Hmm, and now that I think more about it, I don't believe I've ever heard you attempt anything sexual to that girl. So it seems you and her were pure romance. Hopefully it's the same with this one. Although I've just met her, I suppose I could see you and her staying together at least longer than Cat Girl. Regardless, if you do venture into sexual territory, do remember to be safe and take the proper precautions beforehand. We wouldn't want any unfortunate accidents involving, say, an unexpected pregnancy, or a new STD. I could've sworn I heard you and Dave talking about how you and/or he had something about that, which reminds me that you should get checked, especially if you want to get anywhere intimate with this girl.

“But anyways, I'm getting off topic. So, please inform me when we're expecting guests. It's bad enough I have to feed you, I don't need to worry about who will be eating all of our food and using all of our toilet paper next.”

Kenny looks at Theresa, who has taken a sudden interest in sniffing at his photos on the wall. As his brother takes his time in returning to the trance-like state he gets into when Kenny starts ranting, he takes in more of the girls appearance.

Her light brown hair looked a little pink, as if she's just getting rid of some red dye. It's longer than a bob, but not long enough to exactly reach her shoulders and the ends flared out into curly points around her head. It all led to a red headband at the top of her head.

She wore a teal tank top under a leather vest that only went half-way down and shorts with the ends rolled in (what she was doing wearing shorts in this weather, Kenny had no idea). She still hadn't taken off her red sneakers, which dangled off the side of the futon as she sits on her knees, sniffing at the photo of his family which hung on the wall the futon rests against.

She has very petite form, I guess you could say. Skinny arms covered with multi-coloured bands. Her face and shoulders were speckled with tiny orange-brown freckles, more than Kenny, Karry, and Dave combined. She was _covered_ in them.

Her light eyes were hidden behind those pointed red shades.

She knits her eyebrows and sticks out her tongue, trying to reach higher to bring a different photo down.

Kenny looks away from her back to his brother, who seems to have calmed down enough to speak.

“Okay,” Karry says in a deep breath, “so what I gathered from all that was that you think I'm a friggin' man-whore!?”

“Well, no. I did say that I was probably just making assumptions. And you know what they say about that.”

Karry puts his face in his hand and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why do I bother even listening to you? All that ever comes out of your mouth is bullshit.”

“Now see here, I never–“

“Yes, you always.” He sighs. “Look, I really like this one. It would mean a whole lot if you didn't fuck this up for me. The reason it didn't work out so well with Natalie was, well, I didn't feel anything with her. It wasn't even lust, we ever did anything like that. She was nice and I liked her a lot, I just--” He sighs again. “Bro, just...just don't fuck this up. Please?”

Kenny was speechless. He blinks slowly, staring at his brother. _What did I say? Was that really how I sounded? I never...he.....oh dear..._

“Karry...umm, I...I'm sorry. I didn't –“

“Of course you didn't.” Karry drops his hands looks back up to his slightly taller brother.

“Karry!” The raspy woman's voice calls from the living area. “Get your chubby butt back in here right now! You aren't being a very good host, mister!”

“I'm coming!” He calls back and Kenny can't help but grin at his brother. Karry mumbles something about him not having a chubby butt and skulks over to the couch, much more grumpy than before.

Kenny's decided he likes that girl.

“So,” he says, “What do you want for dinner?”

“We ordered Chinese a little bit ago.” Karry says.

“Did you get me anything?”

“A bag of fortune cookies.” Oh, he can just _hear_ the grin in his voice.

“Ha ha,” he says sarcastically. He tugs on his boots by the door, not wanting to go back and get his sneakers, pulls on his jacket and opens the door, taking the key off of the hook and puts them in his pocket, heading out to get the third fast-food dinner that week.

=+=

The rest of the week came and went in a blur and soon enough it was Saturday, and honestly, Kenny didn't really think it would ever come.

He woke with a groan and his hair messy, as usual, but as he turns off his alarm, he gives a crooked smile with his slightly crooked teeth. He looks up to his desk and his smile drops as he spots his camera.

He groans, rolling his eyes at himself. It's too full to take any more pictures.

 _Idiot! You stupid little – You had all week!_ He scolds himself. He's needed to empty it since Sunday, when he photographed a wedding.

And he took a _lot_ of pictures.

He didn't have to, and it's not like he was being paid much for it. It's something he genuinely likes doing – taking pictures of people when they least expect it, the unprepared. Everything is more natural that way. Not so stiff and faked.

Oddly enough, Dave had actually told him about that. When Kenny had first heard that Dave was a hobbyist photographer, Kenny almost laughed a little (feeling guilty about it later). But, never one to dismiss and diminish someone's work, he took a look and was pretty shocked by what he found.

He'd asked Dave how they'd turned out so...so _perfect_ and Dave replied with saying that, 'It doesn't matter whether they look good in the photo or not. If it will make a good memory, take the photo.'

Kenny's nearly lived by that (at least job-wise) since then.

But that is in the past and we are in the present, and in the present, Kenny is grabbing his camera and plugging it into his computer, downloading the images onto it.

The showed estimated time was about an hour, but it switched to three and then back down to one. Kenny rolls his eyes at it and runs his hands through his dry hair.

 _Who knows?_ He thinks as he walks into the bathroom, passing a snoring, sniveling Karry on the pull-out bed.

Whether or not he knew what he was thinking about, he wasn't sure. But a shower is a good time for thinking and deciding.

=+=

He ended up not thinking about much other than the man he's going to meet today and the shampoo in his eyes.

When he gets out he finds that Karry is still asleep and that the camera is forty percent done downloading.

He picks up his phone and sees that Portia has texted him seven times within the passed fifteen minutes. He scans them over and goes wide-eyed as he reads.

Filtering out the rude comments on Kenny's dumb brain, they say that their meeting time had been bumped up since the place they were meeting at had already rented the original time-slot. Meaning, he was late.

So, naturally, Kenny is freaking the hell out.

He doesn't reply to Portia, instead dropping his phone along with the towel around his waste, rushing around his room, picking a pair of pants off the ground and shuffling into them, not really caring if they were dirty or not.

 _Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit._ He thinks as he pulls on a light sweater and his jacket. He takes his camera off of the computer and shoves it into his bag, speeding through the bedroom door.

He lets out a few audible 'shits' and Karry, who is now suddenly awake, of course, hears it.

“Whoa, what's got you cursing?”

“Late,” he replies, pulling on his shoes. “I'm late. I'm leaving, I'm going to be out late. Dinner's in the microwave, just heat it up.” And with that he's out the door.

=+=

Sometimes, Kenny really wishes he could afford a car.

But sadly, no, he has to sprint to Portia's home four blocks down around the corner across the street and through the alley just to get to his ride.

He hits the car out of breath and climbs in and Portia isn't even out yet. He takes the water bottle that's in her car and chugs it down, not caring about the weird after-taste it left in his mouth.

Kenny leans back in the seat and takes some deep breaths, not caring about the woman yelling at him as she too gets into the car. He leans his head against the rest, closing his eyes, chest heaving to get the air back from his exhaustion.

Portia's complaining about all sorts of things, but he blocks her out until he calms himself down and starts breathing normally again, though still anxious to get there.

He looks through his bag to make sure he's got everything, making an upsetting discovery that he's forgotten his cellphone.

He puts his bag back on the floor and starts squirming as his legs start to chafe.

Portia glances over and sees him squirm. “What? What's with you?”

Kenny makes a noise of frustration and says, “I was rushing. I didn't put any underwear on and these pants are stiff. It's scratchy and it hurts.”

“Then stop squirming,” Portia shakes her head. “I told you not to hike your pants up so high, I know that's gotta be uncomfortable.”

He scoffs. “I don't do that anymore, and you'd be moving around if you had to skip out on underwear too.”

She makes a noise and doesn't reply.

Kenny looks forward at the car in front of them. “Why didn't you tell me sooner they changed the time?”

“Hey, no. I was just informed last night.”

“Then you could have told me last night. Then we wouldn't be having this problem.” He receives an irritated grunt in reply. “This isn't very professional of them,” he says.

“You're telling me, get a call at ten thirty at night about a sudden change. Jesus fucking Christ, if one more thing like that happens while we're working with them...Who the hell does that anyway? This guy better be good for all the effort.” She goes on, but Kenny blocks her out to instead look out the window at the blurs of green and brown.

He smiles a little to himself. _It will definitely be worth the effort._

As Portia gets more into town and stops at a red light, she reaches over runs her fingers through his hair.

“Why's your hair wet?”

“I took a shower this morning,” Kenny rolls his eyes.

“Well, why didn't you dry your hair?”

“I let it dry naturally. And you sorta interrupted my routine with those texts, so I had to rush.”

“You must not ever brush your hair, either. And that would explain why your shirt's inside out and don't match your pants.”

“Portia, when have I ever cared about something like that?” Though Kenny did redden a little, so he took off his jacket and his sweater, fixing it so it was right-side-out.

“You did when you were younger,” she responds. “Hey, look,” she says, “almost there.”

Kenny gets excited for a moment, until he saw the meeting building.

It was just an old public gym, with a Starbucks and a Burger King on either side.

“We're meeting _here_?” He asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously and looking at the women sitting next to him.

“Yep,” she says, putting the car in park and turning it off once in the lot.

“But.....it..it's a gym?”

“It's a rec center, there's more than just a gym.” Portia gets out of the car and starts heading towards the building, with Kenny rushing to her side.

“Alright,” he says, “so, they tell us a rescheduled time and meet with us in a _recreational center_. This really isn't professional of them at all.”

“They're shits,” Portia agrees. “But they are paying us a lot and we could use the advertisement.” She opens the door, letting it fall onto Kenny's shoulder with a muted _thud_. “This wasn't even the original meeting place. We were going to be in a studio or something, but then they fucked up and now we're here, so you probably won't be taking any pictures today.”

Kenny gives her a look that says, 'Are you serious?' and tightens his hold on his bag with a small pout. _No pictures, huh?_ , he thinks. _That's another bit of information she lacked to tell me._

Portia approaches the desk at the front and asks a chirpy woman with blonder hair whether or not 'an asshat named Ampora's come in yet', leaving Kenny with his head in his hand, mumbling about how she shouldn't be so rude to someone she hasn't even met yet.

The woman says that, yes, he is here and that he is in the pool area and that they'd have to pay for a band to get in.

Portia rolls her eyes and glances at Kenny but he only shrugs. She gives a grunt and fishes out the pay for the bands.

When the woman's done wrapping them around their wrists, Portia turns to her friend and pulls out a pen, pulling his arm up and pushing the sleeve back. She writes something on him and when he gets to read it, it says, 'owe Portia $15'.

He rolls his eyes, but it seems fair enough. The two enter the pool room and Kenny's looking around, trying to find him. When he finds him, he almost wants to leave.

He's just sitting at a table, looking at a phone with a towel around his neck, glistening with the wet of just coming out of the pool. His hair is longer than Kenny thought, and a lot lighter than what the pictures showed. His jaw was much more angled than he'd thought, too. His shoulders stuck back as he leaned back in his char.

Gosh he was bony, angles all over him, jutting out in the most perfect of ways. Kenny couldn't help his eyes from wandering just a bit lower than his torso, traveling down his sculpted stomach to his groin. His gaze travels down his muscular thighs to his bony ankles.

Kenny blushes just the tiniest bit and glances back to up to find that the man he's admiring had looked up from his phone and is looking back at him, an amused smirk playing at his lips.

Kenny blushes harder and looks down, biting his lip. He and Portia approach him and find he's not alone.

It's a short man with a messy mop of green hair. Oh wait, what? Green hair? Oh...no, it's dyed. My apologies.

But anyways, he doesn't look like he'd been swimming since he was wearing dry jeans and a button-up purple shirt. Kenny gives a weird look. _Well he certainly has no sense of fashion. How the hell did he end up in modeling?_ The guy has an irritated look as he looks through a digital camera. He mumbles occasionally but for the most part doesn't pay them much mind.

Portia clears her throat. And again when he doesn't respond. Finally she just grunts and hits the table. “Hey!” she says. “'Scuse me, but I'm pretty sure we have a meeting.”

The man flinches and looks up at Portia. He glances at Kenny and his bag, then at Connor then back to Portia. He hits his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Shit, we have a meeting today, don't we? Well....take a seat then, let's get talking.”

Portia takes the seat next to the green-haired man, leaving Kenny to have to sit next to Connor. He bites his lip and sits down, scooting his seat a little closer to Portia. His hands find themselves folded and in his lap, thumbs twiddling. _Stop it, Kenny, you're better than this. You have no reason to be so flustered. Just sto – oh shit they're talking to you._

He looks up and finds all people around the table looking at him. _Aw, shit. Nice going, boy wonder, you just missed the entire conversation!_ “Sorry –“ he begins to say, but is interrupted by a low growl.

“Kenny,” Portia whispers angrily, “is that your stomach?”

“I didn't have a chance to grab anything to eat,” he replies, whispering too. “You rushed me this morning, remember?”

She grunts. Kenny glances at the guy with green hair, regretting not learning his name. He doesn't really have much of a reaction other than picking his nails and giving a weird look at them.

Kenny closes his eyes and hits his head against the table with a quiet whimper as his stomach growls again. _Stop it, now you're being the unprofessional one._ He sits up straight and breathes out a quiet “Sorry.” He looks around at them, “What were you saying, then?”

Portia puts her face in her hand. “Kenny, you're useless, I swear. We asked when you'd like to start shooting? We need to plan these things ahead –“ she shoots a glare at the green-haired man – “so we don't mess anything up with a schedule and all that crap.”

“Well, I thought we'd be able to do at least _something_ today, but then this happened,” He gestures to the building, also glaring at the green-hair guy. He really should have learned his name.

That is when his stomach begins to complain again and he squeezes his eyes shut, uncrossing his legs and digs his fingernails into his palm. _God dammit, can this day just get any better?_

He hears a smirk from his left, which is weird since you can't really hear a smirk, but it didn't have enough noise to be a laugh. It was a weird noise he never thought he'd hear. He opens an eye and expects to have everyone be looking at his embarrassment again, but see's the two agents looking a little beyond him, and the bony, black-haired, and slightly imperfect model next to him.

He nudges Kenny on the arm and says, “Come on, there's a Dunk'n Donuts over there. We're never going to get anything done with that interrupting all the time.” His voice had a weird sort of...well, wave to it. Kenny couldn't really describe it, but he knew he liked it.

Kenny goes a little wide-eyed and looks at Portia with a confused face that couldn't very well be confused but more of a 'Can I?' look. She just rolls her eyes and flicks her wrist at him, turning to talk to Green Hair Guy again. Kenny gets out of his seat in a jump and hop/skips a little to catch up to Connor who was already walking away. He catches up and keeps pace with him, tightening his grip a little on his bag strap. He looks back again at Portia, her not looking back. He smiles a little to himself.

_It can._

“So,” Connor says, “Kenny huh? You gonna take that bag everywhere with you?”

Kenny looks at him. “Huh, what – oh, yea, umm, just didn't take it off at the table, I guess.” He looks back down at his feet and shrugs.

“Did you really plan on shooting today?”

“Well, that's usually the case with most of my clients. We'll make up a meeting day and I'll photograph them for the day or maybe another and then print and deliver. But I guess you guys are a special case.” 'Special' doesn't even come close he thinks with a huff, blowing up his bangs with a puff. Seriously, who plans a professional meeting at a recreational center?

Connor hums. “I assume you're talking about how we aren't at a studio. Yea, sorry, that was actually mostly my fault. I forgot and Jardin was supposed to remind me, but he forgot too and well.....I guess we both forgot it today too.”

“Oh,” Kenny says, “So that's your guy's name?”

“Did you miss the introductions?” Connor laughs.

“Yea, wait wait, doesn't 'jardin' mean 'garden' in French?” Kenny makes a face and looks back at the green-hair guy. His head looks like a garden, so he guesses the name fits.

“Yea, pretty silly huh?” Neither of them talk for a while and they find and get in line at the Dunk'n Donuts. “You speak French?”

“Nah,” Kenny says, “but Portia and her sister are. Portia doesn't talk in it too much but her sister always does. She comes over to my apartment sometimes and compliments on just about everything except for the clothing – which she thinks she can improve drastically.”

“Hmm, could she?”

“She probably could, lord knows Karry could use some help in his wardrobe.” He laughs a little and readjusts his bag.

“Karry, that your sister?”

“My brother. He lives with me – well just started to anyway. He just graduated in the summer and after that he decided to move in” He rolls his eyes.

“Summer, huh? I got a cousin who just graduated then.”

“Skaia High?”

“Skaia High.”

“Huh...” _Coincidence or fate?_ Kenny thinks. _Most likely coincidence._ “What's your cousin's name? Might've heard of him through Karry.”

Connor scratches at his neck. “Edaniel Ampora. I doubt if you'd heard of him, he doesn't make friends easily. I think he was friends with like, one girl or something, but I think that was mostly out of pity.”

Kenny hums and then they're at the front of the line. He just orders a glazed donut and water despite Connor's encouragements ('C'mon, Chief, I told you I was buying, get whatever you want!'). Connor gets some sort of fancy-named drink that's taking some time to make so Kenny waits at one of the small round tables in the low and uncomfortable chairs restaurants like this tend to have. By the time Connor's drink is ready, he'd already eaten half of his donut.

He wraps it up and puts it in one of the pockets on his bag. When Connor gives him a look and asks why he didn't just eat it all there, he explains that, “Portia's gonna want some, so...” He grabs his water and twist the cap, taking a few small, short sips and twists the cap back on and then they're walking back.

“So,” Kenny says after a little while, “what drink did you get?”

“Caramel machiatto,”(Okay, maybe it's not really fancy-named, but Kenny hadn't paid attention either way) Connor responds after taking another sip. “Want a sip?”

“Umm, no thank you. I don't drink after others...not sanitary. That and it's yours, I wouldn't want to take anything from that what you have. Feels a little bit like stealing, honestly. And, well, you know how when you sip, like, that little bit that goes into your mouth and then falls back into the cup? Well, there's that bit, the bit that comes straight from your mouth. Wouldn't want to have that bit. That's like an indirect kiss.”

“Then what about that donut? Like, then isn't that the same with her?”

“See, that's what a lot of people think, but that's not the case. I just don't like other people's germs in my mouth – unless it's a kiss from my mother or other relative.”

“What about girlfriend?”

“Nope, I do not have one of those.” He adjusts his strap again and _Wow, Kenny, is this going to be a regular thing with you? Is this your nervous tick now? Jeez, at least try to be more professional when you're with a client. Jeesh!_

“Boyfriend?” Kenny shakes his head. “Really? You have no lover or significant other or something?” Kenny shrugs. “Are you serious? But you're so....” He motions to him with his drink, just his entirety.

“So...what?” Kenny says, stopping for a moment. “You just gestured to all of me.”

“Attractive,” Connor says without hesitation. “Like, damn, you've got good genetics.”

This causes Kenny to go wide-eyed and blush hard, looking down at his shoes. His feet were chaffing in them from not wearing any socks. “No. If anything, I'm average. Which is fine, I have no desire to attract anyone into a relationship, intimate or not. But there is no need to comment on – ” Kenny stops, realizing he's been rambling on about himself.

“No, go on. I like hearing this. No need to comment on what?”

“...Said averageness.” Kenny says it more like a question than a statement, but dammit, he was flustered and couldn't talk right.

“Nah, man, you ain't average. That chick over there,” He motions to a woman with red hair tied up in a bun and large thighs. “ _She_ is average. But still good-looking; I'd screw her. That one over there – well, maybe.”

Wait what? Kenny nearly stops and looks at this Adonis with the most bewildered and slightly shocked face. _Nah, it's normal for people to judge the looks of others and deciding whether or they were their 'type' or not. That is how most people find their partners; look for the desired qualities in another person and then find someone who meets those requirements. Yea.._ Kenny'd actually done that himself (although it was completely biased) and determined that Connor Ampora is his ideal partner. Of course, that was based off of what he'd read on the internet, and he'd never thought he'd actually get a chance to work with him and meet him.

Connor blows out a long sigh that drags Kenny out of his thoughts. Kenny blinks a few quick times then squeezes them and shakes his head a little. “I'm sorry, were you saying something?” _Smooth._

“Nah,” Connor says, finishing off his coffee and tossing it into a trash can as they pass it. “Just tryin' to shoot the breeze, but it looked like you were pretty engrossed with your thoughts. Sorry to interrupt them.” He rolls his eyes and Kenny is almost offended.

He would've commented on the rude gesture, but then he remembered all the comments he'd received in the past about talking too much and being so offended by the smallest of things. He instead just makes an upset noise from his throat and they continue on their journey back to the table in silence.

Kenny's back in his head again and almost runs into his chair when they reach the table. He sits down mumbling nonsense and gives the donut half to Portia with an irritated “Here.” He crosses his legs and sits back in his chair, barely listening to what they were telling him. Apparently while he and Connor were gone, Portia and Jardin figured out their schedule. They'd meet at a studio on Wednesday and Kenny would take the pictures. If needed, they would schedule another shoot. The duos part, Connor going back to the pool and Jardin going back to looking at his camera, Portia and Kenny heading for her car.

Honestly, Kenny wasn't sure if he wanted to do it; this guy was nothing like he thought and he feels like he'd be very demanding and irritating to work with. He considered telling Portia that he's not actually up for this shoot but his mind brings up the money and new TV and kicking his brother out. Eventually he was persuaded.

He arrives home, this time remembering his key this time, and trudges through the living room, passing the small group of friends Karry neglected to tell him were coming over. He ignores them and goes straight into his room and collapses on his bed, for some reason completely drained of energy.

His eyes close and his breathing becomes heavier. He doesn't even brush is teeth.

=+=

Sunday and Monday were uneventful (besides being introduced to Dave's new boyfriend Sunday morning by meeting his naked ass in the morning when Kenny was going to get into the shower) and Tuesday was a little more exciting in that he won twenty dollars from a contest and nearly ran over a woman on his bike. He gave her the twenty dollars and apologized a lot.

Portia woke him up early on Wednesday and they ended up having to wait outside the studio until it opened.

“This is your fault,” he tells her in the car with his arms crossed. “If you hadn't woken me up so early, we wouldn't be sitting here, wasting your heat and waiting for another – let's see – forty-five minutes until the studio opens. Why on earth did you wake up so early anyway?”

She shrugged and pinched her nose. “Kennedy called me last night and wouldn't let me leave. She's in France having a grand time calling her sister who needs her sleep more than anything at four a.m. and talking until it's bloody seven I the morning. I can't get away from her, Ken, I can't tell you how fucking often I hinted to her that I needed to sleep. The only reason the conversation ended was because I'd had enough and straight up told her that I missed my sleep and needed to go for work. She says hello, by the way, and that she hopes you're 'loving life'.” She says the last sentence in mock cheering.

 _So we're both crabby today. Fair enough._ Kenny thinks. “Kenny,” he says quietly.

“Look, people are going to give you nicknames all your life, you have to get used to it. That one you got in grade school lasted up until you graduated – ”

“We're not talking about that any more. Never again.” He gives her a glare and she raises her arms up in defeat.

“Alright, whatever. But you do realize that 'Kenny' is a nickname too? Shortened form of 'Kenneth' ya know? Of course you would because that's your goddamned name!”

“Look, another car! Looks like the studio's open, let's go!” Kenny gets out of the car and slings his bag over his shoulder – this time with camera fully cleaned out, fully charged and with many back-up lenses. He may not particularly like the guy as much anymore, but he was attractive and famous still, so he wants good pictures.

They go in and wait another short while until the other two show up.

“Wow,” Jardin says as the duos approach each other, “you're here early.”

“Maybe you're just late,” Portia says. Kenny knits his brows at that.

 _But, we were early. We showed up an hour before the building opened...if anything, they're on time._ He rolls his eyes at her, realizing she's said it simply for the argument.

Jardin ignores the comment and the group goes into one of the rooms to set up. Kenny produces his camera and its lenses and sets them on a folding chair while Portia sits on one next to it. The man makes a noise of annoyance and moves to the back of her chair and pulls it, with her still on it, back to the wall.

“You do this every time, why?”

“Because you'll get in the way. I explain this every time.” He gives her a glare and she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Hey! You ready yet, can we start this?” Connor calls.

Kenny stands up and says, “Yes, I guess so.” He walks over to his camera, picks out a lens and inserts it into the camera. He motions for Connor to start posing and such.

He, Kenny, sits cross-legged on the floor and positions his camera to take the photos.

“What kind of position is that?” Connor asks in an almost mocking tone.

Kenny shrugs. “It keeps my hands steady. If they aren't steady, the picture will be blurry – we can't have that, now, can we?”

Connor rolls his eyes a little too visibly and that irks Kenny. But he ignores it and begins to take the pictures.

“Do you know what these pictures are for?” The model asks. Kenny shakes his head. “Huh, thought that at least you'd know.”

Kenny stops and looks up. “Wait, did they not tell you?” He looks behind him and sees Portia and Jardin talking to one another.

“Is this a regular thing with her, not telling you where your pictures'll end up? Cause that's kinda shitty, man.”

The photographer makes a noise from his throat. “No, she does usually, but distractions sometimes prevent that. I just take pictures.” Truthfully he didn't care much for where the pictures ended up as long as they were noticed.

“Huh..”

They don't talk much after that, just the occasional question to break the silence but it never goes beyond that. Kenny's not really complaining, that's how shoots usually go. Finally the shoot is done and Kenny's packing up, actually sort of hyped to go through and edit the pictures, when Portia approaches him.

“That went better than I thought,” he says. He slings his bag over his shoulder once he's done and notices Connor and Jardin had already left.

Portia hums. She doesn't talk until they get into the car. “He wants you to be his personal photographer.”

Kenny, who'd been drinking from his water bottle at the time, choked on it and nearly spilled it on himself. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Ampora wants you to be his personal photographer,” She says again.

“No!” Kenny yelps, actually startling himself.

“We'd be getting paid more. Didn't you say you wanted a TV? And you could kick your brother out, so there's that.”

“Yea, but–”

“I already said you'd do it.”

“Portia!”

“You know you'd accept it anyway.”

He stops arguing after that. She's right, after all, he would've accepted it. Even he can be persuaded with the promise of money and that sort of makes him ashamed.

When he gets home he doesn't do anything with the pictures. He doesn't acknowledge his brother nor does he his friends. He's too exhausted to care. Not that taking photos is particularly exhausting, but for some reason he's completely drained of energy.

He doesn't even make it out of his clothes when he collapses on his bed and falls asleep.

Turns out he wasn't that late after all. It's only four in the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally made up Jardin. I just had no idea who would be Cronus's agent guy since it seems like just about no one likes him enough.  
> Yeaa..... :I  
> Also, I totally took Dave's photography thing from a fanfiction I read on here that I can't remember the name of (I'm sorry to whoever wrote it ;_;) (I'm certain it was a BroJohn fiction though haha)  
> And from that same story I took the Maryams being French haha ahh  
> Hope that's ight  
> Also, did you catch my movie reference? Hehh


	3. Attraction And Alcohol Do NOT Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny's feeling things again and has a fight.  
> He also can't take his alcohol, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.  
> Sorry, again, for the wait in chapters.  
> But hey, finally seeing use of those troll names, right?
> 
>  **ALSO** I don't really plan on this being a long fic...like, the chapters might be a little long but only expect somewhere in the range of 2-4 more chapters (but maybe that's why they'll take so long...because I'm writing more in each one??)  
> And I've been debating whether or not I want this to get explicit or not (my original plan was to have at least one explicit scene) and I've decided that I'm not going to. I might write some extra pages maybe (if they're asked for) but the most that y'all are going to get is mild frottage.
> 
> Speaking of which; that will be in this chapter and, if you're uncomfortable with that jazz, stop reading at 'His eyelids grow heavy...'
> 
> coding is so dumb omg
> 
> Oh, and Happy 4/13 (she says at 11:45 pm)

Kenny's discovering that working for Connor isn't really all too bad. He gets breaks any time that he does (which happens a lot actually), he's been given more lenses to use, and of course the money he's being paid (he could almost _see_ the HD HGTV). He's still able to get work from others too, it's just that he's the only photographer for Connor.

“Okay, now twist your body like this.....move your arms up – no, not jazz hands, jeez!” The guy Jardin hired to help Connor pose on the other hand...well, he's not fairing too well with the model.

Kenny sits on a fold-out chair watching them. He was browsing through a magazine when he glanced up and happens to see this 'poser' showing Connor how to do the pose he wants. It's so ridiculous looking that Kenny laughs out loud, dropping his water and causing the men to turn to him.

“Is something funny, _photographer_?” He says in a _clearly_ fake accent. Since when is 'photographer' an insult?

“No, sir,” Kenny says, sitting up straight, trying to make his face do the same. But Connor was looking at him with this stupid face that was an obvious mock at the man in front of them.

It's been three weeks since Kenny's started working with Connor and despite their first meeting, Kenny was starting to like him again. Not so much an attraction (okay, maybe it was attraction also) but, well, like him. Connor made it a point to be so difficult that it was laughable.

Kenny stands up. “Okay, so are we ready to start again?” he asks.

The posing man sniffs and rolls his eyes with a curt, “Fine,” and goes to sit in his own chair next to Jardin and Portia.

Kenny shakes his head and looks at Connor who's looking at him. The photographer swallows and rolls his shoulders back, bringing the camera up to his face he says, “Go.”

=+=

With all the readjusting and reposing, the shoot took about two and a half hours. As Kenny's packing up, he notices someone hovering over him.

He glances up. “Hello, Connor,” he says, then continues to pack his camera.

“Hey, Ken,” Connor says. He leans onto his elbows to get a better look at the man's face. “Me and Jardin are gonna go out for drinks tonight – you wanna come?”

Kenny makes a noise from his throat. “Kenny, please....What's the occasion?”

“Weeeellll...” Connor drums his fingers on the table, “I applied for a modeling job at Calvin Klein’s and just got accepted so we were going to celebrate. You can come, if you'd like.”

Kenny stops putting his camera parts away and looks at his hands. _Calvin Klein's? As in the_ underwear _company? I'll be seeing Connor_ in tight underwear _with_ nothing else on? _Oh, Jesus..._ He clears his throat and says, “If you tell me where you're going, I could maybe stop by.”

Connor's face lit up. “Great!” he says loudly. “Here's the place,” he hands Kenny a piece of paper with words scribbled on it. He has bad handwriting. “I'll see you there!” He runs off to catch up with Jardin, who's apparently his ride.

That's when Portia walks up to Kenny, tapping her foot. “You're not going drinking tonight,” she says.

Kenny gives her a look. “You're not my mother,” he retorts. He slings his now fully packed bag over his shoulder and starts walking back to the car with her.

“No,” she says, “but I'm your best friend and being that, I know very well that you can't handle alcohol _at all_.”

“Who's saying I'll be drinking?”

“Kenny, you know how hard it is for you to refuse something.”

He thinks back to before he agreed to become Connor's personal cameraman. He heaves a big sigh. _I'm too easily persuaded_ , he thinks. “Yea, but –“

“Kenny –“

“Portia.” He stops and raises his eyebrows at her. “I'll say it again: You are _not my mother_. And even if you were, I am well old enough to make decisions on my own. I can go out if I want to!”

“Kenny!”

“I'm walking home!” He covers his mouth. He hadn't meant to shout. Kenny looks at Portia's face, then down at his shoes and he starts walking in the direction he thinks his apartment is.

He removes the hand on his mouth and clenches it into a fist. Who was she to tell him what to do? He's a grown man who can take care of himself perfectly fine! He bites the inside of his cheek and shoves his hands into his pockets.

A car rolls up next to him and honks. The passenger's window rolls down and “Kenny, get in the fucking car!” is shouted at him from it. He ignores her and keeps walking. “Kenny, I swear to god, if you don't get in the car right this fucking minute – “ she cuts herself off to grunt loudly.

 _Yea, that's gonna convince me to get in_ , he thinks.

“Kankri Vantas!” she yells.

Kenny lifts his head. “I thought I told you to _please_ never call me that _ever_?” Oh, if she thought he was getting in the car now she was sorely mistaken.

Portia groans loudly and thuds her head against the wheel. “Alright, fine! But when you're lost, don't bother calling me!” The tires screech as she speeds down the street. 

__Kenny huffs and looks at the sidewalk again. He keeps walking._ _

__=+=_ _

__Kenny looks at his surroundings. He's not sure he's familiar with this particular area.....ohh dear. He swallows and takes out his phone. He's about to dial Portia's number until he remembers their fight. Instead he calls Karry's cellphone but doesn't get and answer so he tries Dave's. Still no answer._ _

_What the hell are those boys doing that's so important that they can't answer me?_ He thinks about it for a moment then shudders. _No, never mind..I don't wanna think about it._ He sighs and wraps his arms around himself. It's getting late. It's getting cold. 

__That's when a car stops next to him and, “Oi, Kenny!” is shouted from it._ _

__Kenny jumps and looks at the person in the car. “Connor?” he mumbles._ _

__“Hey, what're you doing out here alone? Don't you ride with Portia?”_ _

__The man clears his throat and says, “We, um, sorta had a fight.”_ _

__“Oh dang,” Connor tells him. “Well,” he unlocks the doors of the car, “c'mon, you can get a ride with me. You were planning on coming to the bar, right?”_ _

__Kenny inhales and looks down, then back at Connor. “Yea...yea I was.” He circles around the car and gets into the passenger's seat. Once he's settled, he shivers once, then eases into the seat._ _

__Connor re-locks the doors and they're moving. “You two got in a fight, huh? What's it about?”_ _

The photographer winces. “It was something stupid, do you mind if I don't talk about it?” _Ask me again. Please._

__The model snorts. “Alright, fine.” He leans back in his seat and it groans in protest. _How old is this car?__ _

__Kenny clears his throat again. “So how close was I to this bar, anyway? Is it actually any good?”_ _

“Oh, dog, it's _great._ I go there _all the time._ And you were pretty close, yea. Just up here.” He pulls into the fenced parking lot next to a building with too much neon. “We're here!” he sings. 

__Connor climbs out of the car and calls to Kenny, “You comin'?”_ _

“Yea, just a minute!” Kenny puts his bag under his seat and looks at his phone, debating whether or not to bring it in. _What if Portia calls? Or Karry?_

__“Kenny?”_ _

__“Coming!” He decides he doesn't care tonight and leaves the device on the console._ _

__He jogs to catch up to Connor. “H'oh man, this is gonna be a blast!” Connor says as he snakes an arm around Kenny's shoulders._ _

__Kenny blushes hard and is about to shake the arm off but then remembers that this was a night of 'fuck it' and let him keep it there._ _

When they reach the door, however, Connor removes his arm to hold the door open for Kenny. He mutters a 'thank you' and walks through into a world he hadn't seen since his 21st birthday. Everything is a lot more.....brown than he remembered but Connor's hand was on the small of his back and pushing him towards a booth in the corner and Kenny can't really remember anything properly with _that_ happening. 

__Connor said that they'll wait for Jardin there but Kenny's not listening. He's busy falling for those scars again, not even minding the, what appeared to be, rotten personality that had come with it. He doesn't care anymore._ _

__A waitress with oval glasses and jet black hair divided into two long braids walks up to them with a toothy smile...that is, she was smiling until she saw Connor. “Great,” she grumbles, “what do ya want, Ampora?”_ _

__“Whoa, whoa, doll, don't have a cow. Just want some drinks tonight, that's all,” Connor pauses, “ _Minerva._ ”_ _

__The woman growls, like, actually _growls_ at him. She then looks and nods to Kenny. “You gonna roofie his drink?”_ _

__At that, Kenny sits straight up, looking rapidly between her and Connor._ _

__“No,” Connor defends, “we're celebrating.”_ _

__She snorts. “What, your engagement?” Kenny's almost as red as her lips at that._ _

__“No,” Connor exasperates, then sits up and grins. “I got a gig at Calvin Klein's.”_ _

__“You must mean modeling since your music sucks.”_ _

__“Hey, don't hate on my music, chief. The world just ain't ready to handle how unreal the sound is. Anyway, ain't you s'posed to be taking our orders or somethin'?”_ _

__Minerva grunts and says, “What do you want, douche bag?”_ _

__Connor orders just a plain Miller Lite©, claiming he doesn't want to get too drunk before Jardin gets here._ _

__She writes down his drink, sighing out a “lame” under her breathe. “What 'bout you, what you want?” she says to Kenny._ _

__“Oh,” he says, “a, um, a scotch on the rocks.” The way he says it makes it sound like a question. He gives a nervous laugh and looks at Connor, swallowing._ _

__She rolls her eyes and walks back to the bar._ _

__Connor looks at Kenny with an eyebrow raised. “Scotch on the rocks, huh?”_ _

“Yea, it's one of the only alcoholic drinks I can stand.” _Don't lie, Kenny, you can take anything._ He remembers what Portia said. _Or nothing..._

“Mm, seems like a kind of girly drink to me.” 

__Kenny knits his brows. “Well I didn't ask for your for your opinion on it, now did I?”_ _

__Connor blows out a “Whoa-ho-oh. Feisty.” He lays his arms on the table and rests his chin on top of them and looks at Kenny intently. “I like it.”_ _

__Kenny bites his lip and drums his fingers against the table. “So,” he says, “When do you think Jardin is going to show up?”_ _

__Just then Connors bolts up and starts waving his arms calling, “JARDIN! WE'RE OVER HERE!”_ _

__Just as the green-haired man sits at the booth (on the opposite side of Kenny, so he's now trapped) Minerva comes back with their drinks. She looks at Jardin and groans, “Another one?” and takes his order. He has the same as Connor. Kenny sips on his drink quietly while the other two talk._ _

__=+=_ _

__He'd just started his second drink and already Kenny was feeling tipsy. After his third he was leaning against Connor laughing too hard at Jardin's jokes. By his fifth, he had started playing at the model's sleeve mumbling nonsense and truth about himself._ _

__“Y'know in ele – “ gulp, “–mentary school I was call 'Kankri? Yea they'd try t' call meh 'Cranky' cause I'd like, yell at everyone an' st'ff but the' couldn' pronounce it.” He laughs and rubs his head into Connor's shoulder. “Whadda buncha idiots!”_ _

__Connor's looking at him weird which somehow made him think of telling him something. “I was in a band once, too.” Kenny shakes his head. “Nev' mind...s'it's a lie. I was never in a band.”_ _

__“Oh really?” Connor asks, taking a drink from only his second beer._ _

__“An' Karry – when he was learning to drive and stuff, he hit a cat. We'd call 'im 'Karkat' after that. Haha...he really hates it.” Kenny closes his eyes and leans closer onto the model, sighing “Mmm..” as he does._ _

__“Alright,” Connor says, putting down his drink, “I think it's time for us to split.”_ _

Jardin looks almost offended. “It hasn't even been an hour! _And_ it's _your_ party. He's fine, I'm sure.” Kenny opens his eyes a little and laughs. Jardin's only going to miss someone laughing at his jokes. 

“This ain't a party, it's three 'shrooms at a bar. 'Sides, I don't think he could handle much. I think he lied about the drinking.” Connor scoots out of the booth, dragging Kenny out with him. Kenny could still walk fine...mostly; he still needed Connor's shoulder to steady himself. 

When they reach the door, Jardin's still trying to figure out what Connor had said. 

“Shrooms?” 

=+= 

As they get into the car, Kenny's dosing off. 

“Kenny......Oi, Kenny! You gotta tell me where you live pal.” 

The drunken man groans loudly and rolls over to face the driver. “Can't we just go back to your place? I think I live far away from here,” he swallows twice, trying to form his words properly. “An' I dun think Karry's ever seen me drunk...he'd get mad.” 

Connor raises an eyebrow. “So you know you're drunk?” 

“Course,” Kenny sounds as incredulous as a drunk person could, “'m not an idiot, Connor.” 

“I know,” he rests his hand on Kenny's thigh and doesn't move it for the rest of the ride. Multiple times throughout it, however, he asks the photographer if he's sure he doesn't want to be dropped off at his own home but Kenny persists that it'd be easier not to. 

When they finally get there and get out of the car, Kenny's more awake and “More than capable to –“ gulp “– walk by myself, Connor!” The model still has to help him up the stairs. As they enter the apartment, Kenny's clinging to Connor's shirt, resting his head against his back. He was too dazed to look at the room they'd just entered. He instead presses his nose against the model and inhales deeply (he smelled like alcohol and cigarettes). 

And loudly apparently, since Connor says as if posing a question (but not actually), “Chief...” 

Kenny's mouth opens onto the fabric of the shirt, breathing hot air onto it. He pulls at the back of the shirt, tightening his grip on it. 

Connor leads him to the couch, where he pries the man (and his mouth) off of him and rests him on the cushion. “Get some rest, eh?” He stands straight to leave when Kenny grabs onto his shirt again. 

“Stay with me,” he mumbles into the armrest. He pulls on the shirt once and that's enough to get Connor back to and facing him. 

The photographer sits himself up and leans towards the other man's face, breathing his alcoholic breath into it. A regular blush mixed with the drunken one, covering every freckle to near invisibility. His eyelids grow heavy and he pushes his mouth onto the models and that's all it takes before Connor is on him like flies on honey. 

Connor opens his lips and slicks his tongue between Kenny's and wraps his arms around him, pushing the man into the cushions behind him. Connor climbs onto the couch – onto Kenny and lays themselves along the length. 

He removes his mouth from Kenny's and licks the underside of his jaw up to his ear, which he takes between his teeth and chews on gently. His hands roll the man's shirt up to his neck and rub all over his stomach and chest and sides and back, but only leave feather touches along his waistband. 

“Ah!” Kenny cries, unfortunately rather quietly, bucking his hips upward as the model runs his hand under his bellybutton. 

This creates a friction that Connor can only imitate; rubbing his groin against Kenny's quickly. That's when he releases the man's ear and sides. Sitting up, he pulls Kenny's knees up and by his own sides, pressing his still-clothed ass against the model's still-clothed crotch. 

Connor puts his hands on either side of Kenny's head on the armrest and thrusts forward. He rolls his hips over the photographer's ass over and over again, keeping an inconsistent pace because who's ever consistent and accurate while drunk? 

Kenny's quiet moans and sharp gasps fill the room and mix with Connor's grunts and swearing. 

The model leans down and captures the other man's mouth with his, sucking – actually _sucking_ – on his tongue and mouth, creating a loud, wet sound that pops every once in a while. 

He pushes against the man once more and stains his pants, Kenny having already done so and currently riding out his drunken euphoria. Connor collapses onto Kenny, elicitng a “Oof!” from the receiving end. He switches their position carefully with Kenny resting on top of him instead, his head rising and falling with his chest. 

Connor reaches in his back pocket and pulls out and lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from Kenny's sleeping face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please help me write Cronus lol  
> I never want to HTML again
> 
> I'M SORRY, I KNOW IT'S NOT IN CHARACTER REALLY, I JUST REALLY LIKE WRITING A BLUSHING KANKRI AHH


	4. hiatus

hey all who are reading this, im sorry but this is storys going on hiatus for a little while (not like it was being regularly updated in the first place)  
i figured yall have been left in the dark for a while since i havent been updating and whatever so ill give you an explanation

school has just gotten to be too much for me right now and i gotta get some personal shit sorted out and...yea sorry

im not giving up on this story though so expect a new chapter within like a month maybe (the next chapter is about half way done c: )

so yea, sorry to have you wait even longer

**Author's Note:**

> This work is completely un-beta-ed, so if you see any mistakes, be it spelling or grammar or whatever, please let me know.  
> Thank you.


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